


Not What Was Planned

by Withstarryeyes



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Bad Dreams, F/M, Falling In Love, Fever, Love, Nightmares, Protective Dean Winchester, Reader-Insert, Reader-Interactive, Romance, Self-Insert, Sick Character, Sickness, Werewolves, injured
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-27
Updated: 2016-01-31
Packaged: 2018-05-09 16:34:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,146
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5547494
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Withstarryeyes/pseuds/Withstarryeyes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You're an amazing hunter. But one full moon and some werewolves catch you off guard. After Dean saves your ass you decide to stick around. After being injured, through the nightmares and one awful cold you become attached to Dean. Could it be a strong friendship or are you slowly falling for a Winchester?  Set before season 4 and Castiel.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Why'd it have to be a full moon?

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first Supernatural fic. I just started the show a little while ago and I've fallen in love with the characters. This fic will be multi-chapter and I really hope you enjoy it.

Standing on the edge of a building fighting off a werewolf was not what you had planned for today. You were tired, bleeding and massively pissed off. Baring your teeth at the beast and shifting your feet you lunged at the man’s chest, your silver blade protruding from your skinny (y/s/c) fingers. The man snapped and snarled as the tip sliced through his skin, burning him. You took the chance to roll through his legs, sweeping them out from underneath him before standing up next to the fallen wolf. Slipping out the revolver from your waistband you took aim, clicked the safety off and felt a sharp pain in the back of your head. Your eyes traveled up to the starry sky as your legs crumbled underneath you and consciousness left you. 

You smelled the dust in the room before you opened bleary eyes to a blurry scene. Your head ached and you could feel the blood tacky on the back of your neck. You knew you had missed a wolf somewhere, you could hear its growls in the bushes but were too preoccupied trying not to fall off a cliff. 

“You’re awake. How pleasant to meet you officially. You know, without a gun pointed at your heart. And I thought you wanted to be friends,” A man said from behind you. His voice thick with sarcasm. You could hear him scraping a knife on the back of your chair. 

No daring escape attempts then. You laughed bitterly at him while scanning your surroundings. Musty house with battered walls. The windows were blocked with rotting wood and the floor was stained with blood. You twisted your wrists in the ropes noticing the lack of slack around your hands. Dammit, you had small wrists and were hoping that you’d be able to ditch the bindings. A look outside and you could see the bright full moon glowing at you. If only it wasn’t full, then you definitely would have slayed the wolves without problem. 

“You and I will never be friends, I can assure you that,” You spoke in an icy tony, hearing the man circling the chair until he was in your sight. 

He was tall with a leather jacket and a navy henley underneath. You could see the holster for a knife hanging from his side. He had dark skin and amber eyes that contrasted with his blue hair. He laughed darkly, twirling a piece of your hair around his finger. 

“Soon your attitude will change. We’d love to have a new addition to our pack,” The man spoke softly in your ear. His eyes were hungry at the prospect of turning a hunter into the thing they hunted. 

“Over my dead body you will,” You snarled, whipping your head into his nose. 

He elbowed you in your broken ribs, “You stupid bitch! Another move like that and I’ll snap your neck instead of your ribs,” He crouched down to peer into your eyes, his own moving up and down your body like casing a house. 

Huffing you shifted your eyes around his body to the oak door in the back of the room. You’d called for Dean the second your car broke down in the woods. Mist and a dead car were warning signs to a hunter and you suspected that some werewolves were roaming with the full moon. After 5 rings and a voicemail to Dean, you’d loaded up ammo and prayed for any luck to make it out of the woods alive. When were the brothers going to get here and free you? They were cutting it close. You could feel the hunger radiating off the wolf with you, if he didn’t turn you he was surely going to eat you. Something told you that you’d prefer to stay off the menu. 

“Whoever you’re waiting for doesn’t seem to be coming sweetheart. I’d hate to say it but I think that they might have become lunch meat for my family,” The man smiled sweetly, bright teeth with large incisors. 

“Okay fine, say I’m not rescued. Say I become part of your pack. Do I get a name then? Or am I just going to have to refer to you as ‘wolf’ from now on?” You asked, glaring at the nameless man in the center of this room. 

“You’ll get a name as soon as I get yours, pretty.” 

“Y/N.”

“Wayne at your service. You’re really losing hope this quickly? My, my aren’t you are pathetic excuse for a hunter. I’d say you couldn’t achieve anything but the two wolves dead at the point of your knife seem to differ,” He mocked, trailing fingers up your face. You shivered at his touch. 

“What can I say? I’ve always been more of an underdog,” You said smoothly, voice even and chin high. You fought the urge to spit in Wayne’s face. 

Gunshots echoed in the room behind you. Taking the distraction you rocked the chair on it’s back, flipping it onto it’s side. You could almost reach your knife on the ground, Putting your foot on the ground and pushing you slid close enough to the knife to reach it. Bobbing your neck forward and nipping at the strap you caught the leather in your teeth. You felt your ponytail being grabbed roughly before getting yanked back. Yelping, the knife slipped from your teeth. 

“Not so fast, Y/N. You are my ticket out of here,” Wayne said, untying your restraints and putting you into a headlock as Dean knocked down the door to the room you were in. 

“Let her go,” Dean growled, his mouth in a scowl. His nose was scrunched up, his green eyes as serious as a heart attack. 

“Sure, just as soon as I slip out the back,” Wayne answered in a warning tone. 

Dean took a step forward and the arm wrapped around your neck tightened. You scraped your nails down his arms, lashing out your feet as your head throbbed at the lack of air. Lifting an arm up you grasped for his hair, your arms just shy of Wayne’s head. Your vision was greying out at the edges. 

“---” You opened your mouth to beg Dean to back off but you lacked air to make noise. Pushing off on your toes in your red converse you bucked one last time in Wayne’s grip before the arm went limp. Falling onto your knees you gasp and sputtered, trying to fill your lungs with air. You were desperate and it felt like you weren’t getting anything. Someone rolled you onto your back, rubbing your arms. 

“Y/N, hey calm down you can breathe you just need to slow down. Deep and slow, deep and slow, deep and slow,” The mantra repeated over and over in a soothing cadence. You felt your chest stop hurting, your eyes fluttering as your adrenaline faded. 

“D’n?” You asked, still unsure if it was the Winchester helping you. 

“Shhh, Y/N don’t talk. You have a nasty bruise on your throat. At least wait ‘till we get back to Sam and can get it checked out,” Dean said, lifting you up bridal style. 

“Thank you. Dean? Did you kill ‘em?” You whispered, sleep tugging on your tortured and battered body. 

“Yeah, that bastard is one a one way train to hell. Now get some sleep,” Dean answered, tucking a piece of your hair behind your ear after placing you into the Impala. He turned on some of your music while pulling out onto the road. You let the music and the driving lull you to sleep, grateful Dean was looking out for you. 


	2. The First

Dean smiled when he pulled up to the motel, you were leaning against the seat, eyes closed and your hair dangled in front of your face. You looked so peaceful and secure, a sight he hadn’t seen in the house. Not with you gasping for air as he looked, desperate to know if you were dying or not. 

Dean clicked his door closed and walked over to yours. He lifted you out of the Impala, your limp hand brushing his jeans as he jogged up to the motel room. 

“Sam, we’re back,” Dean called out to his little brother. 

Dean placed you down on one of the beds, feet tucked into the blanket and hands crossed over your chest. Dean inspected your injuries; a mountain peeked up from the back of your head. His eyes trailed down to the blooming bruise on your neck, deep purple and navy blues curving out like a smile. He brushed his fingers on the bruised skin fighting back flashes of you in the man’s grasp, bucking like a wild animal just to breathe. 

“What happened? Shit, Dean this looks bad,” Sam breathed having emerged from the other room to find Dean and Y/N. 

“Werewolves, son of a bitch got her in a headlock. I already checked her for broken bones, concussion, the works. Just the neck, a few bruised ribs and a bump on the back of her head. It was close but you know how I am under pressure,” Dean reported, he shrugged and went to get a beer, always the actor. 

“Okay, I’m just going to get some painkillers so she can stay on top of the pain,” Sam disappeared into the bathroom for a moment, coming back out with a bottle of pills and a cup of water. 

Dean sat in the rocking chair eying your sleeping form. He knew the nightmares would come eventually; they always did after a bad hunt. You stirred a little, your nose scrunching up and your fingers dancing. Dean strolled over taking your hand and spoke softly, encouraging you to wake up. 

“C’mon Y/N, the nap was nice but we need to patch you up. Think you can open your eyes for me?” Dean asked. 

You muttered, pushing his face away at the disturbance to your sleep, “No.’’

“There’s the Y/N I know and love,” Dean mocked, moving your hand back to your side as you pushed up against the pillows. 

“Can I go back to sleep now?” Sam handed you the pills and you thanked them, downing them with the cup of water. 

“Yeah Y/N, sleep,” Sam said, watching with curiosity as you maneuvered over to the couch.  “Uh, what are you doing?”

“Sleeping, Sam it’s my turn on the couch,” You replied. 

“I can take the couch, it’ll hurt your back and the less pain you’re in the morning the better,” Sam offered. 

You eyed him and his puppy dog look. You could tell Sam wanted to help, felt bad after the hunt. But you were tough and a couch wasn’t going to kill you. “It’s fine,” You barked and laid down on the dusty cushions. 

Sam shared a look with his brother but Dean just shrugged in his what-you-gonna-do? way. 

_ Wayne circles you in the chair, eyes hungry and his mouth open in a snarl. He’s getting closer, smelling your hair. You gulp, scared and too tired to hide it with sass anymore.  _

_ “I told you he wouldn’t come sweetheart,” he taunts and you hang your head defeated. _

_ His hunger is palpable and every part of your body is tensed up. You back is hunched in the chair and your arms are digging into the ropes. He grips your ponytail and yanks your head up, exposing your neck.  _

_ “You’re just delicious,” Wayne hums, licking the freckle over your jugular.  _

_ You shut your eyes and call up an image of Dean. You think of what you’re leaving behind, the green eyes, the freckles, the concern that’s hidden behind his persona.  _

_ “Just do it,” You breathe, waiting.  _

_ In a beat you feel a sharp pain and blood trickling down your neck… _

You woke up sweating on the floor, your head aching and the feeling of blood on your neck. Your hand flew to the wound in your dream, missing a bite mark. Confused and gasping you look up to see Dean crouched behind you. 

“Dammit Y/N could you miss the table next time?” He said and brought a cloth up to your forehead. You were still fuzzy looking at his ruffled hair and pajamas. 

“Dream?” You asked, full sentences non-existent at the moment. 

Dean nodded and you blushed at the vulnerability you felt in the moment. You were breathing erratically and you focused on smoothing it out as Dean stitched you up. You still felt the remnants of the dream, the feeling of the bite and Wayne’s breath on your neck and his words about you.  __ You didn’t realize Dean had been talking the whole time until he clapped a hand on your back and raised his eyebrows in a question. 

You raised your head to meet Dean’s eyes and crumble. Dean pulled you to his shoulder while you sobbed and breathed in his scent. The dream left you feeling lost and pathetic and helpless. The loss of control scared you. 

“It’s okay Y/N, it’s okay…” Dean repeated over and over until you gained control again. 

He pulled you away from his chest to look at you for a moment. His eyes were piercing. He leaned into you and you softened to his touch. A blink and he kissed you passionately, his kiss deep and pouring and comforting. You let him kiss you and carry you into his bed, hopefully free of nightmares. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you liked this chapter. Please feel free to leave a review or kudos. Thanks!


	3. Dean, What the Hell?

You woke up in his bed, in his flannel sheets and in his arms. Your head ached from the run-in with the table but the fuzziness of Dean’s scent made up for it. You grumbled and turned over, Dean stared at you. 

“Hey Dean?” You started and Dean’s face was open, eager to hear what you said. You wanted to say you liked him, you wanted to say that kiss was amazing. But instead you just crinkled your brow and feigned confusion, “What am I doing in your bed and how the hell did I get this cut on my head?” 

Dean’s face morphed into confusion for a second then straight into worry and you felt guilty for trying to play off your feelings. But you knew once you opened that door you couldn’t close it anymore and you would be a liability. To Dean who would do anything to save you and to Sam who would do anything to the girl Dean loved-or liked. 

“Are you dizzy, any nausea?” Dean questioned as he moved to inspect your eyes, You knew he was checking for a non-existent concussion but hoped when you passed the inspection he’d settle on your sleepiness as the culprit. 

“No, Dean I’m sure I’m fine,” You said, caught his hand with your own and rolled your eyes. You had to hide under the sarcasm and the wit and the walls you had built up as a hunter. What happened last night couldn’t happen again. “Breakfast? I saw a diner on my way into town that had cherry pies,” You smirked because you knew the food would occupy the Winchester long enough for him to see that you were fine.  

“Pie?” Sure enough his eyes had lit up and you picked up the keys to the Impala.

You watched in amazement as Dean shoveled in three pieces with whipped cream before the sun had risen in the sky. He had caught you staring and smushed whipped cream on your nose, that mischievous twinkle in his eyes that you knew had to be illegal because it made him look like a goddamn angel. 

“Try that again Deanie and I’ll take your pie,” You threatened and laughed when his face pinched sour. 

You blew out a breath and peeled off your jacket. All that was left on was your ratty old Rents tank top and cut-off shorts. Your hair had fallen down your shoulders and the back of you neck was sticky. 

“You look hot,” Dean said, when he stopped looking at the pie like a girl at prom lingering too long next to the pretty boy jock. 

“Damn straight,” You said and twisted your lips in a smirk but felt your stomach flip at the compliment. 

“No, Y/N, I mean you look  _ hot _ ,” Dean insisted.

“Look if this is about the-” You started to talk about the kiss when Dean manhandled your forehead across the table.  “What the hell?” 

“You’re hot, Dammit Y/N,” Dean mumbled and tossed down some cash to cover his inhuman amount of pie. 

Dean drove fast, his car wove through traffic like a wakeboard behind a boat. He pulled up to the motel, threw the car in park and shoved you up the stairs. 

“Strip.” You threw him an odd look. 

“What?” Your mouth had gone dry. 

“ _ Strip.”  _

“Gonna throw a couple singles my way?” You snipped but followed directions anyway. You threw the the shirt over the plaid couch and your shorts pulled down by your feet. You blushed as Dean analysed you, eyes intense as they scoured your body. You felt self-conscious about the scars that littered your body before remembering Dean had them too. You had a hunter's body and Dean wasn't going to judge you for it. 

“Turn,” Dean demanded, swinging his finger in a circle. 

“Last I checked I wasn’t entered in any dog shows,” You gritted your teeth and turned, knowing he was going to see the long scars down your back. The ones you fought to hide, even in the summer you opted for one-pieces and not bikinis. It’s not that you minded them, you just didn’t want to explain them. Didn’t want to explain that your dad went crazy and thought you were an Angel, tried to rip your wings out with a knife. All that was successful in doing was getting him sent to jail and you, hospital. 

You heard the quick gasp at the scars before Dean coughed and told you that you could wear clothes again. 

“What was that for?” You asked, donning black jeans and and v-neck tshirt. 

“Uh-” Dean’s cheeks had flushed and you were glad to see him something other than smartass, “You had a fever. I wanted to make sure you didn’t have any infected wounds I didn’t know about.”

Your breathing feels a little thick after moving so much and you coughed into your elbow before you sat down on the couch. 

“I’m fine,” You can’t let him help you though this. 

“Sure you are,” You can’t let him help you with this

You can't let him help you with this. If you do you were sure you were going to fall in love with him. Hunters didn’t fall in love, especially with the Winchesters. 


	4. The Fan Was On Fire

God, you hated being sick. You were up all night coughing and falling asleep on your feet in the day. You had a headache 100% of the time and all you wanted was a bucket of tea and biscuits but anything on your stomach made it dip and dive. You whimpered from your spot in your bedroom. You were flat on your back and watching the ceiling fan go around in circles. It was all you could do, with Dean and Sam in the living room and your tv made alarm bells go off in your already pounding head. 

“Hey, Y/N, you alright? Sam and I need to head out for some food,” Dean asked through the door and you could feel his worry. He knew better than to come in though after yesterday when you yelled at him because you were throwing up and couldn’t let him take care of you. 

“I’m fine Dean,” You said trying to make your voice sound even. 

“Okay, you know to call if you need anything right?” Dean asked and you rolled your eyes. 

“Leave. I’m not five,” You heard Dean’s footsteps retreated and you continued staring at your fan in all its monotonous glory. 

“Y/N?” The fan was on fire. 

“Mmmm” You hummed, you were dizzy and the bed was rocking like a boat. 

Dean walked towards your room and turned the knob. He watched your eyes follow the fan around in circles. 

“Uh… you okay?” Dean asked and you laughed. No you weren’t okay, the fan was on fire and Dean had a little angel on his shoulder.

“Dandy,” You opted out of telling him this. 

Dean walked closer to the bed, his hand out. You knew he was going to take a stab at your forehead so you pushed off the bed to avoid him. 

“Oh my god!” Dean’s shoulder was ripped into piece and blood was dripping down his shoulder. “You said you were going for food,” You whispered and took fast steps towards his wounds. 

“We did. Y/N what is going on?” You blinked and the rip was gone, replaced with a usual canvas jacket. 

“Nothing.” Dean sighed in disappointment. 

You squeezed your eyes shut when Dean’s head suddenly grew horns. You were hallucinating and you knew that. But it felt so real. 

“Y/N,” Dean’s tone was on the border of lethal and you opened your eyes to look at his face. 

“Uh, there’s a…” You trailed off, you didn’t want to say it. Especially not to Dean. 

“What, there’s a what?” Dean reached towards his gun, expecting you to name a monster he could fire away. 

“Well, you see… There’s an angel on your shoulder and blood down the wall and my legs feel like they’re gonna give out,” You rambled, dizzy and out of breath. 

Dean launched himself at you while your body dove towards the ground. 

“Jesus christ, you’re burning up.” Dean said exasperated, you felt like you had spent the better half of the day in an oven. 

Dean steered you to the bathroom and you tried not to scream at the demon in the mirror with Dean’s smile and black eyes. You tried not to ask Dean for help when he turned on the water and spiders crawled out instead. You closed your eyes and swallowed thickly when Dean stripped you down and shoved you into the cold stream. You could hear the water sizzle against your skin like bacon in a pan.  _ It’s not real, it’s all imaginary. _ You could smell your skin cooking. 

Dean pulled you out of the shower when the smells and the sights and the sounds were long gone, dead in some unmarked grave on the side of the highway. 

“I didn’t mean for you to find out I had a fever,” You stated, dodging away from Dean’s gaze. 

“You were burning up and hallucinating. You should have told me!” Dean was barely holding back his anger. 

“What would be the fun in that?” You tried to steer the conversation back towards joking. 

Dean relaxed like a toy out of batteries. He stepped closer and you winced at the seriousness painted on his face. 

“A fever could kill you. I could have come home and found you in a coma. I don’t ever want this to happen again, not in this lifetime.” Dean gritted his teeth. 

You nodded your head, feeling stupid and ridiculous that you let your crush get in the way of your friendship. 

“Hey,” Dean blew out a breath and his necklace bobbed against his chest, “I just, I’ve lost people and I’d hate to lose you too,”

“I won’t leave. It’s not my style,” You said because what else could you say to that? What else could you say to a guy usually with 20 shields around him coming to you bare with raw words in his mouth?

Dean pulled you in a hug and you breathed in his scent, his Dean-ness. It smelled like smoke and wood and salt and somehow like your Dad before he got taken away. It smelled like home, like the road trips and hunting trips and the one time in third grade when you followed him to a house with a spirit and almost got your head shot off with rock salt. It smelled like childhood. 

“Movie?” You suggested like you were ten again and you had been dropped off at Bobby’s to spend time with the Winchesters. 

“As long as it’s Wizard of Oz,” Dean said and winked at you. 

That boy was gonna kill you.He was gonna stop your heart because you were in love with the Winchester boy. 


	5. Chick-Flick Moment

“Did you tell Sam?” You asked Dean after the movie.

“About what?” He sighed and you know he’s thinking multiple things. _The scars, the lies, the fever. Sammy? How much does he know? Well it depends on which topic._

“The...almost dying.” You whispered and tried to push down the lingering thoughts on your scars.

“Yeah. He knows. He’s the best ‘doctor’ we have around here, it’s best he knows,” Dean supplied and you felt bad for putting through that. You felt bad for jeopardizing Dean’s sanity over a crush.

He looked over to you then, flushed cheeks and his freckles popping out like sprinkles on vanilla ice cream. He leaned over to you and you watched his eyes. You flicked your own to his lips; the lips you wanted to trace with your own. You wanted to say something. Ached to. But you couldn’t bring yourself to say the words and bring the hammer down on this glass friendship.

“Y/N,”

“Don’t-” You warned the way he was looking at you. Open eyes and lashes just shy of your cheekbones. You could smell the blueberry pie on his breath.  “No chick flick moments remember?” You ~~said~~  begged.

“Just a quick one. Not long, not painful, just there,” He said and you could feel his lips brush up in a smile.

“If this is about the kiss,” He placed a finger on your lips.

“It’s about you. It’s about the kiss and your scars and you. All of you, Y/N. I want you,” Dean said and you blinked to find him leaning back on the couch. He was waiting for you and your words. The ones you were stubborn to part with.

“Really?” You gave him one last chance to back out. _Don’t say it if you don’t mean it._ That warning you wanted to burn into his flesh.

“Why wouldn’t I?” A very Dean answer in this very un-Dean conversation. But there it was, out in the open. Blunt and plain and still not an I-love-you but pretty damn close for a Winchester.

“Because I’m not a girl to mess with,” You started but wanted to end it on a sweeter note.  “I want you too Dean,-” You meant to say more but the moment was gone. The chick-flick moment was gone, in its wake, hunger.

You put a hand on the curve of Dean’s neck and rubbed a circle over his pulse. He brushed a piece of hair from your forehead, trailing the finger down your cheekbone. Seconds passed when you both looked at each other, swimmers before a race. One more and the horn blew, you jumped into the pool.

He kissed you deeply, your insides swirled at the passion. You never wanted this feeling to end. Dean licked your bottom lip and you moaned against him. You tugged gently on his hair, trying to ground yourself on him, in him, with him.

You broke apart, winded.

“That was far from painful,” You conceded and he pulled you back in for another kiss.

Kissing Dean was like rebuilding your life, like removing the scars and the bad memories. You felt the need to tell him everything. You felt the time was right to come clean.

“I didn’t stumble on the werewolves by chance,” You said and Dean stopped to stare at you. You could see him holding back a reaction, patient for the rest.

“But the car broke down,” He said and you nodded, that was right.

“I could’ve stayed in the car, I had supplies to hide from them, full moon and all. I wanted to take the chance, to kill something. I wanted to take them on,” You said and knocked your forehead against his so your eyes looked down, away from him.

“You were hidden and yet you went out without backup? Why would you do that, you know better,” His voice rose steadily and you tried to center yourself before continuing.

“I had gotten a call that night, my father…” You broke off, remembering the officer’s voice. Deep and unsympathetic, your father was a criminal afterall. The only notes of cadance being boredom. 

“What? C’mon, Y/N,” Dean was hushed, his anger flowing out at the look of your face. Your mouth was wobbling and your eyes looked so lost. You looked broken then, and Dean had never felt so scared.

“The jail… they called me. A-and said. He wasn’t even sorry Dean that he’d died. The officer couldn’t care less that he was calling me to tell me my father had died. In jail, a place he’d tried to avoid his entire life,” Your voice cracked and you sniffled against the tears.

“The scars…” It made sense after all, a hunter to put it together.

“He went crazy, thought I was an angel. Tried to cut my ‘wings’ off, got a sentence instead. Now he’s dead because the delusion came back and his cellmate fought back, won.”

“You went looking for trouble,” Dean muttered and hugged you close to his chest, “Oh, Y/N, oh, oh,” You could almost hear his heart shatter for you. The lightbulb lighting up that you’d been practically suicidal that day. Not thinking clearly and going out to hunt.

You just listened to his heartbeat while you sobbed into his chest. You could feel his lungs expand and his arms rubbing up and down your back. When you gained your voice back you spoke,

“I’m sorry, this isn’t when I meant to tell you this. This should’ve been a fun night,” You said and couldn’t help but flash to a fantasy of Dean under the sheets and what he could’ve done.

“No, this is perfect. This is what I want to hear, what I’ve needed to hear. I’ve been so worried, but now I can help, Y/N, I can help you.” Dean said and he meant all off it. He knew there was something off but was too scared you’d jump off the ledge if he asked.

Now he could help you and protect you and love you.

The time marched on even as you and Dean slowly relaxed together on the couch, tangled up in each other. You fell asleep to Dean’s stories, to his truths matching up to your own. His own weaknesses, his own sacrificing stories. Grief was an odd thing. Let it into your life and it was a grenade, share it and it was a bridge.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story has been marked complete! I have received a few comments wanting more and I love the feedback and I am glad that people enjoyed this :) but I feel that this story has completed it's path. I do, however, have plenty of other stories that have and are being currently written. Thanks to all that took the time to read, like, and comment on this fic. It means the world to me :)

**Author's Note:**

> Please review with any suggestions of future chapters and what you'd like to see. I love the feedback, Thanks!!  
> -C


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